


Pale as Rubies and Flushed as Stars

by CollarsAndCurses



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Drunken Kissing, Emotions, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Hermaphroditic Trolls, Karkat cannot handle alcohol, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Quadrant Confusion, Xeno, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat gets drunk at a new sweep's eve party and spills out all of his feelings to his favourite aquatic companion.</p><p>This was supposed to be part of another fic until the plot changed and it had to be cut, but I had too many feels to scrap the idea completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quite the fiasco

**Author's Note:**

> MOVED FROM SLAVETOMYKEYBOARD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Eridan POV))

Tonight is New Sweep’s eve, and as per tradition amongst adult Trolls, there is a party in the city centre. It is at this party, that you manage to – accidentally – get Karkat completely and stunningly intoxicated. That’s what you get for buying him drinks whenever he asks without really looking at how much he’s had, then hearing that wheezing giggle and realising all too late what you’ve allowed him to do. You pay for his last drink – most of which ended up on the floor – then hook your arm around his middle and help him stumble away from the bar. You’re so busy looking at your own unruly feet as you push through the crowd, that you don’t notice Terezi glaring daggers at you from the edge of the plaza until Karkat calls out to her.

“Hey ‘Rezi!” He shouts, and you’re not sure if he meant to shorten her name or if a hiccup stole the first syllable.

She makes no attempt to reply, just tightens her hands around her cane, probably imagining that it’s your neck and she’s throttling you with your own scarf. You wave to her in hopes of changing this, but if anything you think it makes her angrier. And Karkat, poor, stupid, drunken Karkat, decides to start having a conversation with her at a volume completely inappropriate for what he’s saying.

“Shaw you with Strid’r earlier, ‘s okay if you wanna go there, I know we were like a thing but whatev’s, ‘s in the past, an’ we’re friends so I want you to be happy,” he could have stopped embarrassing himself there, but no, his squawkblister just carries on spewing out things sober Karkat will most definitely regret. “An’ he’s hot, I mean I would so go there, but like, he’s a f’ckin nookswizzler, so maybe not, but hey, I’m not gonna tell you what to do.”

Terezi slowly raises a hand to rub her eyes, and you spy a hint of teal creeping across her cheeks as Karkat’s rant catches the attention of people standing nearby. You decide to spare her further grief as a gesture of goodwill, and continue leading Karkat away from his growing audience.

“Bye! Bye Terezi!” he yells over his shoulder, almost hitting someone in the face as he waves to her.

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t wave back. Then as Karkat’s hand comes down he makes a grab for your ass and almost sends you jumping sideways down a set of steps. It seems that in spite of his apparent lack of concupiscent desire – and the size of his actual horns – Karkat is one of the horniest drunks you have ever met. This surprised you at first, but since tonight marks your third escapade into the land of shots and liquor with this little ball of fury and words, you’re starting to get used to it. Sort of.

You think he would actually say yes to anything you asked him at this point, which is both thrilling and terrifying, because it means you have to be the voice of reason. You, the one who has a flushcrush on him that is pretty much all you think about when you’re together, have to say no when he tries to drag you into the nearest seat and give you hickeys until your skin is more purple than grey. You should get a medal for this, really.

“Where’re we goin’?” he asks as the crowd begins to thin down around you.

“Wwell my block is closest, but I could take you to yours if you like?”

“No, ‘m not goin’ home yet,” he declares, reaching to the stars above him with both arms, and then letting one flop onto your shoulder.

“Okay, mine it is then.” You don’t think Terezi would want to deal with him tonight anyway.

It’s quite the fiasco, trying to hold Karkat upright and still – which means stopping his wandering hands from distracting you – as you plead with your key card to just fucking open the door, viciously swiping it through the reader slot for the tenth time. Then when it finally does its job, you’re so unprepared that the two of you tumble inside and end up on the floor, narrowly escaping cracking your pans open on the coffee table. You take a moment to appreciate your near miss and then try to stand up, but you only manage to get one foot planted on the floor before Karkat drags you back down, giggling and chirruping like someone spiked his drink with pollen.

Wait, he couldn’t have actually been drugged could he? You hold his shoulders and take a deep sniff of his neck. Hmm, he doesn’t have that characteristic sickly-sweet smell, and you can still see the red around his pupils, even if they are huge as fuck. You were watching him the whole time too, so you guess he’s alright?

“You gonna man this ship captain or jus’ look at it?” he asks, very seriously and very seductively, gazing up at you as he licks his lips so slowly that it must have been deliberate.

You don’t think you’ve ever blushed harder in your entire life, even that time when Sollux turned down your offer of Kismessitude and then told everyone about it, adding his own very inaccurate details about how the conversation went.

“Your _face_ , dude, you look like a grape,” Karkat snickers and paps your cheeks with both hands.

You frown at him and try to growl, but the sound that actually makes it way out of your throat is just a strangled, nasally whine. Unsurprisingly, Karkat isn’t put off in the slightest, grabbing your shirt and pulling you down to mash your mouths together. Your combined lack of coordination results in a lot of clacking teeth and you’re pretty sure he’s going to be wearing your glasses if he keeps this up. But you’re not going to complain because he is so beautifully _hot_ like this, especially the way he slips his tongue past your lips the first chance he gets, moaning and arching up into you like he’s desperate for any contact.

He takes whatever he wants and you let him, holding yourself just shy of his body with quivering limbs that threaten to give out when he tries to pull you down. Then he moves away and hooks his leg over your hips, rolling you over onto your back before you’ve got a chance to realise why he stopped kissing you.

“I’m the captain now,” he murmurs against your lips, and you suddenly understand why concupiscent roleplaying is so popular.

Your ‘captain’ commandeers your mouth with just as much enthusiasm as before, raking his claws through your hair as you grip the back of his jacket, wanting nothing more than to just tear it off of him along with the rest of his clothes. Then he starts grinding against your crotch as if he’s skipped that train of thought and is trying to fuck you through four layers of clothing, and you decide it’s time to step in before either of you makes a mess of your uniforms.

He growls when you gently lever him off to one side, and takes his frustration out on the fin nearest to his mouth, locking his teeth around it with enough force for even those blunt nubs he calls fangs to draw blood. Then when you yelp in pain he abruptly lets go, switching instead to lick up the droplets of violet threatening to stain the wooden floor. You trill appreciatively as he runs his tongue across the delicate membranes, leaving a warm, wet trail in the wake of each motion.

“Sorry, Fins,” he whispers, using his unofficial drunken nickname for you as he bumps his forehead against your temple. Or perhaps he was just apologising to your fins in general, which he has a habit of abusing when he’s in this state.

You pat his cheek, not quite able to say “it’s okay” because if you’re being honest you really were not okay with that. But you’ll forgive him because it’s Karkat, and you couldn’t hate Karkat even if he stole every last thing you owned and left you for dead by the side of the road.

“I didn’t mean t’ bite you,” he says quietly.

You sigh, “I knoww.”

“Or kiss you,” he adds, carrying on before you get a chance to tell him that part really didn’t bother you. “I know you’re not into me that way, I mean you’d prob’ly take me anyway ‘cause you’re you, but we’ve always been more pale y’know? An’ that’s nice ‘cause I think I’d like being your ‘rail if I wasn’t with Gamzee, an’ I don’t give a shit if that makes me seem like a pale slut just for carin’ about my friends too fucking much. So yeah, sorry, I’m making this worse aren’t I? I should shut up now. Time for Karkat to shut up.”

Should you be offended by that? Did he just imply that you’d jump on anyone as soon as they asked you to be in a quadrant? If this was regular Karkat then you would probably try to fight back and defend your non-existent honour, but a, he’s right; you would take him in any quadrant – just him though – and b, he most likely has no idea what he’s saying. You want to reassure him and tell him you _do_ want him that way, but a wave of dizziness reminds you that you’ve also been drinking, and it’s generally not a good idea to discuss relationships when both parties aren’t in their right pans.

“It’s okay,” you finally tell him. "You wwouldn’t wwant me in a quadrant anywway, nobody wwould. I’m too much hassle, too much miserable fuckin’ _drama_. You don’t need to be dealin’ wwith that.”

“ _No_ , Eridan, God,” he pulls himself up to lean over you again. “Stop saying shit like that, and I don’t care if that’s how you feel because how you feel is fucking _wrong_ , anyone would be lucky to have a Moirail as pitiable as you, don’t ever let any fucker tell you otherwise.” Usually he would be shouting at you as he says this, but now he’s all sweetness and pity, with his warm little hands splayed across your chest.

You take his face in your hands and kiss him as lovingly as he deserves, wondering if it’s possible to die from wanting someone too much when he lets out a breathless whimper and begins to tremble. Then you feel something wet on your cheek, and his next lungful of air comes back out in a sob as he breaks the kiss and turns away. Your pan goes from red to pale in two seconds flat, and as he sits up to hide his face, you follow him, wrapping yourself around him as he curls into a ball. You shush him and squeeze him and stroke his hair, peppering him with chaste, tender kisses until he’s hugging you instead of his knees, sniffles and choked, quiet cries the only sounds accompanying the stream of tears painting his cheeks with lines of pink.

He’s almost completely limp when you pick him up, only reacting to snuggle closer after you sit down on the couch and tuck his head under your chin. You know he won’t remember half of this in the evening, and after you exchange memories to piece together what happened, he’ll ask if you’re still friends and you’ll smile through your broken heart and tell him ‘of course we are’ because no matter how much it hurts, you know you couldn’t live without him.

“Red f’r you,” he purrs, pressing his warm, button nose against your collarbone. “Pale as rubies n’ flushed as the stars.”

You don’t know if he made that up on the spot or if it’s from one of his romcoms, but you’ll be damned if that isn’t the single most romantic thing you’ve ever heard. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember, it’s enough knowing that somewhere inside he wants you at least half as much as you want him.

“Red for you too lovve,” you tell him as you smile into his hair. “Pale as rubies, flushed as stars.”

He sighs, sending contented rumbles through your chest as he twines his fingers with yours. You close your eyes and return his purr, vowing that one night you’ll work up the nerve to tell him how you feel without the liquid courage.


	2. Nevver say nevver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Eridan POV))

You wake up some hours later to the sound of someone retching in your bathroom, and you’re guessing from the lack of warmth on your chest that it’s Karkat. You rub your face and sit up, letting everything that transpired last night flood back into your aching pan. Then you see a light from under the table, and upon kneeling down to investigate, you find your palmhusk silently yelling at you about the thirty-four messages waiting to be read. Fuck, _thirty-four_ , that’s more than you ever remember having at one time. You hope they’re not all from the same person.

Vriska, Sollux, Rose, Dave, Feferi, Jade, John, Terezi – oh _God_ that’s going to be an interesting conversation – Kanaya, some of your other friends and… Karkat? More Karkat. Even _more_ Karkat. Why is he messaging you if he’s in the room next-door? You ignore all the other flashing icons and open his chat window.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

CG: HEY ERIDAN  
CG: I’M LEAVING THESE FOR YOU TO READ WHEN YOU WAKE UP BECAUSE I FEEL FUCKING AWFUL IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE, AND I WOULD RATHER JUST SIT ON THE FLOOR OF YOUR ABLUTIONBLOCK AT THE MOMENT AND WALLOW IN MY OWN IDIOCY.  
CG: BUT I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I AM SO  
CG: SO  
CG: *SO*  
CG: UNBELIEVABLY SORRY FOR WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT  
CG: I DRANK YOUR WALLET DRY LIKE A CHEAP DATE AND THEN THREW MYSELF AT YOU BECAUSE I WAS SO OUT OF MY PAN THAT I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT HOW AWKWARD IT WOULD BE FOR YOU.  
CG: NOT THAT THAT’S ANY EXCUSE FOR THE WAY I ACTED.  
CG: I WAS SELFISH AND STUPID AND I KNOW THAT THERE WERE SEVERAL OCCASIONS ON WHICH I THOROUGHLY EMBARRASSED MYSELF TO THE POINT THAT I AM ACTUALLY CONSIDERING JUST NEVER EVER COMING OUT OF MY HIVE EVER AGAIN.  
CG: I’LL UNDERSTAND IF YOU WANT TO KICK ME OUT OF YOURS THOUGH  
CG: I’D KICK ME OUT TOO  
CG: I WAS AN AWFUL FRIEND AND THE WORST PART IS THAT YOU JUST FUCKING LET ME DO IT  
CG: ‘IT’ BEING EVERYTHING I DID TO YOU LAST NIGHT, WHICH FOR ONCE I CAN ACTUALLY REMEMBER AND I KNOW INCLUDED BITING YOUR FIN HARD ENOUGH TO GET BLOOD ON MY FACE  
CG: LETS ADD THAT TO THE LIST OF THINGS I NEED TO APOLOGISE FOR  
CG: ALSO BEFORE YOU ASK, YES I AM TYPING THIS WHILST EJECTING THE CONTENTS OF MY DIGESTIVE SAC INTO YOUR LOAD GAPER.  
CG: I’M REALLY SORRY ABOUT THAT TOO  
CG: I’LL CLEAN UP WHEN I’M DONE  
CG: AND THEN MAYBE DISINFECT THE REST OF YOUR HIVE SO THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH A SINGLE TRACE OF ME EVER AGAIN.  
CG: I JUST  
CG: I’M SORRY

Oh God, he blames himself for everything, he thinks that you hate him for it, that you’ll never want to see him again. He’s got it all wrong, so very, very _wrong_. You have to tell him how you feel, stop him beating himself up about something that isn’t even a problem. But not over Trollian. You’ll reassure him, but that’s it, the confessions can wait until you’re face-to-face and not hungover.

CA: dont be sorry kar  
CA: i dont blame you for anythin that happened  
CA: i wwas drunk too remember  
CA: not as much as you but still  
CA: and i definitely do NOT wwant you to leavve an nevver come back  
CA: dont evver think that i wwould wwant that  
CA: kar are you alright  
CA: i understand if you cant type but youre really fuckin silent on the other side a that door an im getting wworried here  


You’ve paced your way over to the ablutionblock, and hold your breath for a few seconds as you wait for some sign that Karkat is okay. A few more seconds. You have to take a breath now because your lungs are starting to panic along with your pan. You’re on the verge of opening the door and barging in there, when you hear a low groan. Oh thank the moons.

“Kar, are you alright?”

He grunts affirmatively in response, and you hear him shuffling around a bit before resuming the battle with his stomach and its rebellion against alcohol.

“Let me knoww if you need anythin’,” you tell him after the sound of the chain flushing.

“Thanks,” he replies hoarsely.

You stumble back over to the couch, the anxiety leaving dizziness in its wake as it drains from your pan, and decide to check your other messages. Most of them are wishing you a ‘happy new sweep’ – you totally forgot that it was new sweep’s night tonight – or just random nonsense that was written by a clearly inebriated sender. Then you get to Terezi’s and your stomach drops in a way that does not help your nausea.

GC: L3T M3 KNOW WH3N K4RK4T N33DS P1CK1NG UP

That’s the only thing she’s sent to you. No threats about keeping Karkat safe, or jokes about what the two of you may or may not have gotten up to. Just a single, emotionless line. Obviously it seems emotionless because you know that feelings don’t travel well in a written format, but you can almost feel her hostility through the screen. At least you have a way to get Karkat home though.

It takes another hour before he’s ready to be more than a metre away from your toilet, and Terezi arrives shortly after, so you don’t get a chance to really talk to him beyond asking how he’s feeling. He looks dreadful – which Terezi feels the need to comment on – and his skin is still tinged with pallid green as he clumsily pulls on his boots. You help him to his feet when he’s done, and if looks could kill then you would have taken his place on the floor after locking eyes with Terezi.

You offer a sarcastic smile in return as you hand Karkat over to her, taking longer than required to actually let go of him. If you had your way he wouldn’t be going anywhere, but you’ve only got one recuperacoon and both of you could do with a good rest. And once he’s gone, that’s exactly what you do. You shove a few biscuits into your mouth because it’s all you can manage, then strip off and sink into the cool sopor. Its sedative effects drag you under almost immediately, giving you a welcome respite from the worries bouncing around the inside of your cranium.

Somehow you manage to sleep right through the rest of the night, and the next day, only waking up the following evening when your stomach informs you that it desperately requires sustenance before it begins to eat itself. You stretch, then climb out of your ‘coon and towel off so that you can get dressed without feeling sticky. It’s rare that you don’t have a shower straight after waking up, and as a result you’re still half asleep as you make yourself breakfast. You try toast, but end up burning it, and then realise that the rest of the bread has mould on it, so that option goes straight in the bin, literally.

After a bit of dithering and trying to make your eyes focus through your glasses so you can read expiration dates, you settle on some cereal, staring at the wall opposite your couch as you grumpily shovel spoonful’s into your mouth. A good rest hasn’t stopped you stressing about the Karkat situation; you know you need to tell him that you actually _meant_ what you said that night, that he was wrong when he said you didn’t want him as a Matesprit, but actually finding the words is proving to be a lot harder than you’d expected.

A shower provides no additional inspiration and you’re still completely unprepared when you call him at midnight, flutterbeasts swarming around your insides when you hear his gruff voice crackling out of the receiver and stealing anything clever that you might have thought of. But somehow you manage to invite him over with little resistance on his part.

He turns up late – as you expected – but at least he doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out anymore. You let him inside and stand in silence for a few heartbeats, then you both speak at the same time and end up looking away from each other muttering awkward apologies. But after a sigh, Karkat takes the lead, his gaze splitting its focus time equally between your face and the floor.

“I know I’ve already said this like ten times, and you’re probably sick of it by now, but I, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, you’vve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

In truth, he has, you think as your bitten fin twinges when you move it, but it would be petty to hold it over him.

“No, I _do_ ,” he argues, lacking all of the softness from that night. “I took advantage of you in quadrants that you don’t want me in, I fucked up Eridan, I couldn’t control myself and I messed up everything. I’m honestly surprised that you still want to talk to me, unless I’m just here for you to tell me about how many goddamn credits I owe you.” He frowns at you, as if he’s actually expecting that you’ve only invited him over to demand money from him.

How can someone that watches so many romance movies be so _dense_?

You shake your head, “You don’t owwe me credits Kar, I payed for your drinks ‘cause I wwanted you to havve a good time,” you let the resulting silence hang for a moment, then continue when Karkat does nothing but stare at you. “An’ besides, havve you evver actually asked me wwhat quadrant I wwant you in?”

For once he seems lost for words, opening and closing his mouth several times as his blood makes its presence known in his round little cheeks, before he settles on a mildly irritated, “Well, g-go on then, which one is it?”

God he’s adorable, and he actually fucking stuttered, you can’t even remember the last time that happened. He’s got his arms folded and a frown settled on his features, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s desperate to know the answer.

 _I’m red for you_. _I want to be Matesprits_. _I’m so flushed for you that it hurts._ _I can’t live without you_. _I want you every way I can. Please don’t leave me_. _I love you_.

Unfortunately, every word you think of gets gets stuck in your throat when you try to vocalise it. So instead, you decide to show him.

He stays frozen in place when you take a step forwards, barely breathing until you bring your hands up to his face, making him gasp as you ghost your fingers along his jawline and then settle them just under his ears. You can feel his teeth clench together as he swallows, his pulse hammering against your palm even faster than your own. His lips part slightly as you tilt his face up, his blush spreading its way out to the tips of his ears. He’s so perfect, you almost don’t want stop looking. Almost. He closes his eyes when you lean down to meet him, but you wait until the last second before letting yours drift shut as you press your lips to his.

Even though you’ve kissed him half a dozen times before, there’s something different about doing it without either of you having alcohol on your lips. Something new, and special, like the others were just practice runs and this is your real first flush kiss. Karkat melts under your touch as you move one hand down to his waist, sliding the other into his hair and holding his head still to deepen the kiss. He pliantly opens his mouth, letting out a small moan when you pull him tight against your body.

“F-flushed then?” he mutters when you let him up for air.

“Mhm,” you reply, letting him nod before you dive back in.

He’s less hesitant this time, eagerly reciprocating as he snakes his hands up your chest, gripping your shirt and taking a step closer to put his leg between yours. He pushes again and you get the hint, walking backwards so that he can move forwards, performing a strange sort of dance until the backs of your knees hit the arm of the sofa. You let yourself slip into the seat behind, Karkat crawling with you to maintain the airlock between your mouths. Then as you edge back further so that your legs aren’t hanging off of the side, he moves down to kiss your neck, groaning loudly when you accidently rub your knee against his crotch.

So much for not wanting to pail anyone.

“S-sorry,” he chokes, panting warm breath across your collarbone.

“Don’t be, I wwant to knoww wwhat makes you feel good,” you whisper against one of his horns, running a hand down his back.

He shudders with a breathy laugh, “Well t-that for s-starters,” then he laughs again. “But we’re a bit over-dressed f-for the rest.”

Oh, wow, okay, is he suggesting what you think he’s suggesting?

“Shit, sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?” He sits back far enough to look at you, his worried expression in contrast with the blush that covers it.

“No, no,” you reply quickly. “It’s just not wwhat I wwas expectin’, seein’ as you’vve nevver showwn an interest in um… _That_ , before.”

“O-oh,” he relaxes slightly. “I guess I never considered it a possibility, what with my blood and all.”

You smile and stroke his face with the back of your hand, “Nevver say nevver Kar.”

He smiles back “So, you want to?”

“Yeah," you try not to sound too eager, but from the way he launches back into kissing you at the slightest nudge, you doubt there’s much that could put him off now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is NSFW, so you can stop here or continue at your own disgression.


	3. More than all the rubies and all the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey would you look at that, chapter 3, finally!
> 
> I think I'm happy with this, but it's my first try at writing NSFW so go easy on me yeah? ^^;
> 
> Featuring Karkat ' _what do you mean there are words other than good?_ ' Vantas and Eridan ' _I need to be more careful with my horns next time_ ' Ampora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Karkat POV))

You’re nervous. So, _so_ nervous. But also excited. And Happy, let’s not forget about happy; after all you did just get a Matesprit – you think – and you’re about to possibly pail him – you hope. But then there’s the fear that he’ll think you're weird. Sure he said he’s okay with your blood colour, but what about when it’s all out in the open for him to see? Oh no the nerves again. Then he tugs at the waistband of your jeans, and the flutterbeasts in your abdomen decide that you’re excited now instead. You guess you’d describe yourself as feeling everything. All of the things. All of them. Rushing around your insides like your organs are continents and they’re playing a game of risk. Seriously, fuck hormones and emotions. Especially the ones that are telling your vocal cords to make all of these embarrassing noises. As if on command, you fail to stop yourself from whining into Eridan’s mouth like a desperate porn star. You think it’s impatience, and promptly send a mental ‘FUCK YOU’ to that sentiment in particular, as you simultaneously give in to it again and arch your back to get more body contact with your sea-dweller.

Yes, he’s _yours_. _All yours_. You show him this by marking him when you break for air, rubbing your face over every available patch of skin until your scents are intermingled. You take a deep breath and your purr revs like an engine, blending with Eridan’s as he marks you back, makes you his. It shouldn’t feel this right to be claimed by someone, but it does and you don’t care. You love him like this; stripped of his glamour until there’s nothing left but soft and responsive, soaking up your attention as if he needs it to live. It’s nice to see this side of him without it being preceded by tears for once. You kiss his neck and then lick his fin - the non-bitten one - because drunk Karkat remembered that he liked that. Oh _hell yes_ , he’s wearing that little ruby stud under the top spine. You mouth at the skin and run your tongue over the jewel, sucking lightly before you pull away. He shivers and trills and _God_ that’s a beautiful sound.

You never believed in the rumour that sea-dwellers make the sexiest vocalisations, but Eridan has just converted you to be a devout follower in a matter of seconds. All hail sea Trolls and the way they can turn you on with just their voices, no words required. Now that’s a bargain if you ever saw one. Okay, you need to stop your inner monologue now, give the frontpan let a rest and let something a little more southward have a go at driving the HMS Vantas. Shit, this isn’t stopping your monologue. Fuck. You think it’s a coping mechanism, having irrationally long thoughts in your own head whilst Eridan gets the rest of you so worked up that it hurts. Then he pulls your hips down onto his and wow, yep, that’s done it, there’s no ignoring your body now.

You let out a pathetically strangled moan, the ache between your legs getting worse as his bulge presses against yours through all those stupid layers of fabric still in the way.

“L-last chance t-t’ back out.” He whispers, his breathing heavy against your ear.

“Not on your fucking life.” You growl with an impressive degree of composure.

He nods and hooks his thumbs into your jeans, pulling them down as far as he can before you have to kick them off. You’re so glad you aren’t wearing your uniform tonight; those pants are a bastard to get off. You also praise past Karkat for deciding to put on black boxers this evening, because if the slick – and quite frankly disgusting – feeling you get whenever the fabric moves is any indication, then they would otherwise be stained with a thorough helping of red. You balance yourself on your knees and get a good grip on his jeans, waiting for him to lift his ass before you help him shimmy them off. Okay, Eridan did not wear black boxers. You think his pants were blue but you can’t really tell because well fuck, they’re lilac now. Just like his face as he gazes into your eyes, the colour deepening when you position your hands above your underwear.

“Still good?” You ask him, trying to ignore the fact that something is running down your inner thigh. You bet that looks _real_ fucking beautiful.

“Yeah, good.” He replies with a dreamy tone.

You thought it would be weird to have someone watching you undress, but when you see him looking at you with such adoration, it’s nothing like the piercing, spotlight glare you imagined. His eyes widen when he follows the movement of your pants, but after a few seconds of ogling – which you’ll allow because you’re probably going to do the same to him – they’re back on your face, all soft and hopeful. It really should be criminal how much you pity this poor fucker. Also on the list of illegal things, would be the way your bulge decides to wrap around your arm and leave a, ugh, _lovely_ , trail of pink before trying to do the same to your leg. It’s as if it wants to parade your blood colour around like a fucking flag. Mmh, feels nice though, finally free from the restrictions of your clothes in the chilly air of Eridan’s room.

You decide to leave your shirt on, but Eridan hurriedly tugs his off – so quickly that you think he tears a sleeve on his horns – before removing his boxers. Well then, chalk another one up for the sea-dweller rumours; they are indeed rather well-endowed. You thought you’d want to look at his gills, but at this point you couldn’t give less of a shit about them if you tried. A series of thoughts that you don’t want to elaborate on run through your head, but you manage to put them aside and be at least moderately romantic, leaning forwards to give your Matesprit a tender, loving kiss. He sighs and puts a hand on your back, the other behind your head with his fingers settled between your horns. His cool touch makes you jump slightly, giving your bulge the kick it needs to start paying attention and twist itself around Eridan’s. Fuck that’s cold. Your hips twitch and you can feel his doing the same, both of you trembling with the effort of taking things slowly.

Actually no, fuck that, slow is for movies, and if his reply to your chirrup is anything to go by, then Eridan wholeheartedly agrees. He moves with you when you sit back, using the hand previously up the back of your shirt to shove a cushion behind his shoulders and prop himself up a little. You spread your legs as his bulge snakes between them, flicking and teasing in this agonisingly pleasurable way.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Mmh, yeah, d-do it, p-please.”

God that sounded so desperate, but it’s as if the words just fell out of your mouth with no input from your pan at all. And to be honest, you guess you could class yourself as desperate by this point. Horribly desperate and needy and _aching_.

“E-Eridah- _aaahh_ -an- _hnn_ -n.” You draw out his name in a long moan – half-yelling in the middle when he bucks upwards, pushing further inside you – until your weight is resting fully on his hips, nook clenching around his bulge as it curls against your inner walls.

The stretch hurts so good, and the way his coldness soothes your throbbing muscles is just, also, like, really… Fucking… Good. _Ah_. Shit, you’re experiencing a severe shortage of adjectives here.

“Alright?”

Great, now he’s asking you a question. Why did he have to pick the one time you can literally not even form a sentence to start being so considerate?

“Yeah,” You purr, “f-feels – _hnnn_ – good.”

 _Wow you’re so eloquent tonight Karkat, you should write a book called ‘100 uses of the word good’ you useless asshat_ , you tell yourself sarcastically. Not that Eridan cares about your vocabulary though, he’s too busy looking submissive for you; fins relaxed and his throat exposed, the flushed skin just _begging_ to be under your tongue and branded with the shape of your mouth.

“Mhhmm.” He agrees, bending his knees slightly as you lean forwards.

Then you stop as you both let out a cry, caught off-guard by the pleasure that such a simple movement sent coursing through you. He puts a hand on your side as if to steady himself, or perhaps he’s attempting to steady you, not that he’ll be able to do much with the way he’s shaking. God his eyes are huge, you can even see the lights above you reflected in them, like a constellation of stars so close that you could touch them. Okay, maybe the hickeys can wait. You bite your lip so you don’t squeal when you move again, reaching down to stop your bulge from painting Eridan’s stomach pink and guide it into his nook instead.

“Kar- _rrrr_.” The end of your name becomes a trill, buzzing in his throat as you work your way further inside of him.

Mh, yes, okay, that also feels good, with good meaning fucking fantastic to the point where you almost don’t know what to do with yourself. Then a spasm twitches your hips that last little bit forwards, Eridan responding with a buck and a loud whine that makes every nerve in your body stand to attention. You moan back in the absence of words, your pan gradually melting into no more than a receptor for everything you’re feeling and hearing and seeing, and all of that is just Eridan; no appliances humming or that ugly, floral cushion framing his perfect face. Just him, and that’s all you need. You put a hand on his stomach and he arches into you, rolling his hips on the way down as you do the same, your entire abdomen clenching and releasing. You do it again, and again, building up a rhythm that leaves you panting for a reason entirely different to the gentle speed. Then his bulge lashes deep and hits this spot that makes you practically howl with ecstasy.

“D-do that, again.” You gasp, your arms visibly trembling as you brace yourself on the couch.

He nods and grips your thighs, and two thrusts later you’re throwing your head back with a keen so loud that the whole building must’ve heard. Heat builds in your abdomen like liquid fire and then suddenly releases, stars peppering your vision and Eridan’s name on your lips as you fill him, digging your knees into his sides so hard that it’ll probably leave bruises. He growls possessively, claws like needles in your skin, keeping you grounded as his nook flutters and ripples around your bulge. Then he lets out a cry of " _Karkat!_ " and a rush of cold ricochets against your aftershocks, sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body as you ride out Eridan’s orgasm.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. You think you’re crying, but any semblance of caring about it is no more than a flicker in your jumbled excuse for a think pan. The white spots in the back of your eyes fade, taking your consciousness with them and leaving darkness in their wake.

When you finally manage to scrape your pan back together, you do so with a purr in your throat and the feeling of someone drawing circles around the base of your horns. You push yourself up – which is far tougher than it should be due to your noodle arms – and press your mouth against Eridan’s neck. He sighs and sinks further into the cushion, which now has a large hole in it near one of his horns. A smile curls onto your face as you catch his skin between your teeth, biting just hard enough to leave a light mark and draw a husky chirr from your Matesprit. Your strength now returned somewhat, you sit up enough to let your lips meet. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you close, taking your lazy kisses and giving you his in return.

“I lovve you.” He says, purring loud and deep in his chest

“I love you too.” You whisper back, and it’s so painful how completely true it is.

You’re not sure how long it is before you finally decide to move, but it’s enough time for everything between your legs to become uncomfortably cold and sticky. Seeing as Highbloods recover quicker, Eridan carries to you his ablutionblock princess-style, telling you how gorgeous you are even though you know for a fact that you look like shit. Or at least compared to him you do. The water pools in a brilliant cerise around your feet as you wash up, your colours mixing to create such a bright, royal hue that you’re going to be so smug about handing over to the drones one night. You want to cry again as you realise that this is the first time you haven’t cared about your blood colour, a few tears escaping in spite of your attempts to hold them back. But when Eridan asks what’s wrong, you just tell him you love him again and wrap him up in the fluffy towel draped across your shoulders.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You too lovve, more than all the rubies and all the stars.” Then sweeps you up once more and takes you to his recuperacoon, your heart skipping all kinds of beats in the process.

You could study his beautiful face forever, your head tucked up by his shoulder and with his body wrapped around you, limbs tangled as two Trolls squeeze into a space only meant for one. You guess you’re lucky that you’re so small and that Eridan has a royal-size ‘cupe, filled with top-quality sopor that makes you drop off in a matter of minutes, dreams full of nothing but happiness and your perfectly imperfect Matesprit.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write, especially at midnight pfft.
> 
> Chapter 3 took a while - and a lot more midnights - but it's finally done!
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this fic and have a lovely day my dear reader ~
> 
> Now with chapter titles as of Feb 4th!


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